A Moment of Respite
by Faeline
Summary: Sabriel Week Day 6. Gabriel doesn't like being ignored. Vignette. "Can't believe you're passing me over for…" Gabriel tips Sam's book so he can read the cover. "A Treatise on Esoteric Christian Theurgy? C'mon, Sam!" (Reviews are how fanfic authors get paid.)


**AN:** Written for Sabriel Week's Day 6 Prompt: Color (and Concept) Day. I chose the color "red" and the concept "reading." And...what came out is mostly a little vignette exploring some of my headcanon. If you're looking for plot, you're not going to find it here.

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_**A Moment of Respite**_

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Sam tears his eyes away from his book, tracks the goings on around him. The sun is past its peak, beginning to cast long shadows across the sand, but it's still hot and Sam's hair sticks to the nape of his neck.

The breeze off the ocean has gotten much stronger, a boon against his sun warm skin; it brings with it the sharp scent of salt, the odor of green things—kelp, sea grass—to match the green ocean. He'd never seen such green water until Gabriel had snapped them to this little island somewhere in the Atlantic; he's not sure if it's inhabited, could be completely uncharted for all he knows, but Gabriel has a house tucked away in the foliage and Sam, frankly, doesn't feel like asking too many questions.

He just enjoys the respite.

And he's not the only one.

Fox, Gabriel's Jack Russell Terrier, is careening through the tide, kicking up sand and scaring the sea birds as he tries to keep sight of his master, who isn't so much swimming as body surfing. Naked.

He's been out there for the last hour and Sam knows if Gabriel were human, he'd have sunburn in interesting places. And it's a good thing he isn't human, Sam thinks, as he watches the waves devour the angel and then spit him onto the shoreline. Gabriel rolls, sits up, wet grains of sand clinging to his skin, and shakes water out of his face. He then proceeds to chase Fox along the beach, his stride long and loping and inhumanly graceful, the mortal façade cast aside in this private place.

It's not long before Gabriel changes direction—leaving Fox to explore the tangles of kelp that have washed ashore—and heads up the beach toward Sam. His pace slows as he nears; he lifts his arms over his head, stretching, hips swaying just a little too much to be authentic.

It doesn't matter, Sam enjoys the show, lets his eyes follow the stretch and pull of muscle, the lines of sand along his flanks, trailing down his thighs. Gabriel's half erect already and he turns slightly, the sunlight glinting off the garnet captive bead of his foreskin ring. (And, okay, the foreskin Sam had kind of expected as he'd considered the possible age and origin of Gabriel's vessel. Though he hadn't given it _that_ much thought. Really. The piercing was another surprise and he hadn't been expecting it even when Gabriel had smirked at him, told him "You just might find something shiny in my pants.")

"See something you like, Sammy?"

Sam smirked, licked the ball of his thumb and turned the page in his book.

There's a soft "tsch" sound from Gabriel and then a small dust storm as the angel drops onto the sand in front of Sam, stretching out on his back. His fingers comb through the dark curls between his thighs, slide over the tip of his erection, giving a tug on the piercing. "Can't believe you're passing me over for…" Gabriel tips Sam's book so he can read the cover. "A Treatise on Esoteric Christian Theurgy? C'mon, Sam!"

"There's some interesting information in here," Sam says, hiding his smile behind the pages.

"I'm _full_ of interesting information, Sammy."

"Yeah. But sometimes getting information out of you is like pulling teeth. Out of werewolf."

"Fine," Gabriel says and he's almost in full petulant whine mode now. "But surely, you can have your cake and eat it." And he snaps his fingers.

Sam blinks. The pages of his book have gone blank. "What did yo—"

Oh.

Gabriel stretches, preens. Sam can see the paragraph he'd been reading, etched in black ink across the angel's sternum; previous paragraphs scrawl across the angel's throat, his shoulders, down his arms and legs. There's even the diagram Sam had been occasionally perusing, right smack in the middle of Gabriel's erection.

"I think you might find that piece of particular interest," Gabriel says, face straight.

Sam halts on a glare, thinks better of it, and straddles Gabriel's thighs. He continues his reading, ignoring the jut of Gabriel's hips, the bump of the angel's erection against him, garnet captive bead glowing flashing like a beacon.

"Saaaam."

"You'll have to wait," Sam says, "I haven't gotten to that part yet."

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End


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